


Resolution

by KipDigress



Series: Coming to terms [4]
Category: Ashes to Ashes (UK TV)
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Friends being annoying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:35:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23510923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KipDigress/pseuds/KipDigress
Summary: After a visitor has made a point, avoiding things is really no longer a possibility. Especially when friends persist in being more intrusive than they would once have dared. The afterlife really is a great equaliser.
Relationships: Alex Drake/Gene Hunt, Annie Cartwright/Sam Tyler, Shaz Granger/Chris Skelton
Series: Coming to terms [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643671
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	1. Reticence

**Author's Note:**

> I had initially intended to write a part 3, but in the end, what I wrote just followed straight on from part 2 - which was therefore extended. This is the final part: if you haven't read the previous three parts, you may be able to enjoy this on its own, but it probably won't make much sense - so read those first!

"You've been here for nearly a month, Gene," Alex observed as casually as she could. They were sitting at what had almost become their habitual ends of her couch, the occasional pattern of the early eighties now very nearly automatic: Alex would sort out their drinks, and come in to find Gene ensconced at one end of his sofa with his booted feet almost invariable on the glass top of her coffee table. She'd objected a few times, and he'd obligingly put his feet on the floor. Somewhere in the ensuing conversation, though, they'd always make their way back up. She'd soon decided to shrug and accept that one corner of her coffee table would eventually be horribly scratched.

"And your point is?" Gene retorted.

"Well," Alex twirled her wineglass slowly in her hands, "The Gene Genie on a promise and not taking advantage? It somehow doesn't seem..." she trailed off and dared a glance at her companion's face.

"Go on," he prompted.

"Well it doesn't quite seem like you," Alex said in a rush. "We spend a good proportion of each day with each other; we usually eat dinner together, sometimes with the others, sometimes just the two of us. You've wound up here for at least half an hour most nights, and, with, I think two exceptions, the nights you haven't, it's because yours is on my way home. And yet, the most I've had has been a kiss on the cheek."

"Didn't want to rush you," Gene said eventually when Alex let the silence stretch.

"Oh, is that what it is? I was starting to wonder whether Keats was right - that you have a 'curious uncertainty about the other sex'."

"I don't," he said defensively. "Just about you," he added much more softly, looking resolutely at the beer bottle in his hands.

"Oh," Alex said, instead of the sharp retort she had been drawing breath for.

"What? no witty retort? no psychological insight?" Gene taunted when Alex didn't say anything. "Or has the cat really got your tongue?" he wondered after another minute's silence.

Alex shook her head, that Gene was uncertain with her wasn't exactly a surprise; that he'd said as much was. "I just, need a moment," she murmured, "psychology is never as straightforward when applied to something that involves oneself."

"Psychological insight it is," Gene said with a sigh, taking another sip of his beer.

"Yeah," Alex took a sip of her wine and placed the glass carefully on the table. She shifted at her end of the couch, tucking her feet under her so she faced Gene directly. "'Posh totty and a bit of rough', that's what you once said. Of course, that was immediately before you reminded me that I answered to you and no one else." She looked down for a second, "Not that I listened."

"Not your strong suit, no."

"Oi, shut it," Alex said mildly. "Our visitor last week - Sergeant Fraser - was right. We were partners. No matter what happened, when one of us needed the other, they were there."

"Does shooting you count?"

"Hush. I forgave you for that before I blacked out, you need to forgive yourself." Gene huffed in disagreement, even if she was right and, almost sixteen years later, he hadn't forgiven himself for nearly killing his D.I.. "But it was hard. There were always tensions. I was too opinionated, you were too used to having your own way. That I was a woman added another layer of potential complication, perhaps more than one." She paused, thinking back over her years at Fenchurch East. "You were something of a contradiction: the brashness, the bravado, the brutality on occasion, and then the kindness and gentleness that you let few see. You could be quite the showman, but it didn't run through you in the same way as policing."

"If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times, don't say that sort of thing too loud."

Alex smiled. Ray and Gene were so very similar in many respects. Though she'd never had the same equality with Ray as she had with the guv, she had seen Ray's softer side often enough. Sometimes it had been towards her, usually with the threat of repercussions if she let on, more often, and less guardedly, it had been towards Shaz. She supposed the fact that she'd been senior to him for most of the first two years they'd worked together had been a sore point.

"I won't, I promise," Alex said, "but they know anyway." She looked away for a moment, and took a deep breath before continuing. "Even Ray gets lonely from time to time."

"So do I."

"Yes, you told me that once too. And then you turned me down," she added bluntly.

"I was your bloody senior officer, for Christ's sake, woman," Gene almost shouted, giving expression to seventeen years of frustration and glaring at Alex. Head full of brains notwithstanding, Alex Drake could be frustratingly oblivious to the politics and implications of her position as a female D.I. in the early eighties. He supposed her naïvety made more sense with the knowledge of the nature of the world they'd met in, but even so, that she'd never even considered the difficulties - had clearly never had to face those questions despite her position as a D.I. - was something that even now he could barely fathom. How much _more_ change was the new millennium going to make? "It was the right thing to do," he added more softly.

"But was it what you wanted?" Alex prodded. "Actually, no, don't answer that," she ordered when Gene gave her a disbelieving look, "we were both drunk at the time."

"Yes, we were."

"Ever the gentleman," Alex said with a fond smile. "You'd deny it, you know. Even that first day, when, as far as you knew, I was a prostitute, you never said or did anything that could be construed as anything other than honourable." Gene snorted: Alex's assessment of her first day was definitely a bit off, but he supposed first impressions didn't quite count for everything.

"Knowing a person's name and then fainting does make something of an impression," he remarked blandly. "Not to mention the suicide attempt."

"You thought me completely mad."

"And you thought you weren't?" Gene shot back, eyebrows raised.

"That's beside the point. We were so close, and yet we were forever at odds. A new face, and, snap," she snapped her fingers, "we were at loggerheads."

"Trust." Gene ran a hand through his hair. "I think the only time we got it right was after I'd come clean with you about Supermac." Despite the fact that those months had probably been when they'd been at their best, his expression was grim. Joining the Masons had never been high on his list of things to do in his life; and was one of the few things that he honestly wished he'd never had to do. The ends _had_ justified the means, but that didn't mean to say they had to contribute to sleeping soundly.

"And at the very end, once we'd found out the truth up at Farringfield Green."

"Yeah," Gene's voice was flat. He hadn't forgotten what he'd learnt, but that particular trip up to Lancashire was not one of his favourite memories. It had the merciful benefit of being a fairly short and enlightening adventure, and had facilitated the avoidance of future problems.

"I've said it before, I could always trust you to be stubborn and angry and conceited. But you made us feel safe. You never let us down." She trailed off, unsure what to say, unsure what she _could_ say. It meant too much, and she didn't have the words. "Would it have been any different if things had been otherwise?" she asked after a long silence.

"Let's not go there," Gene said firmly, his voice still sad. "Playing 'what if' is rarely advisable, and certainly isn't for us."

They lapsed into silence. Neither sure of what they wanted to say - or of where the conversation was going. Their relationship had always been so tempestuous, filled with violent arguments and divisive misunderstandings: him pushing her away, her asking questions he didn't want to answer. He remembered her pleading him to 'let her in', back in early '82; that had been the only time he'd really done so, and only once he'd been faced with so many indications that she was right that he couldn't have considered himself as anything other than an equally bent copper if he'd persisted in his defence of the indefensible. He'd have been a coward too.

They'd both been so opinionated, so stubborn; neither willing to back down. Their different strengths were curiously complementary, yet they'd never had enough consistency in their interactions for the flaming rows to calm to less destructive bickering and for their partnership to develop fully. It was partly a result of the nature of the job, pushing them from one crisis to another, the clock ticking, lives and justice and truth on the line. And Keats, of course, always Keats. They'd returned to CID, shoulder to shoulder, and then Keats had walked in, threatening him and dripping poison into Alex's ears - poison he could have stopped if he'd been more open with her, and if Keats had been less efficient at interrupting or preventing important conversations.

Alex sighed. They needed a way to broach what was always going to prove a difficult topic. They needed to learn to articulate truths that they could barely understand themselves. She watched as Gene sipped his beer: they were skirting potentially dangerous ground - the nature of their relationship and everything that had ever come between them - and yet he was still there, sitting on her couch, tense, but not making his excuses to leave. They were going to have to discuss everything eventually - and not hate themselves or each other afterwards.

The silence stretched and became oppressive. The flat still around them, and the roads quiet. Alex stood and wandered over to the hi-fi. She ran a finger over the cassette boxes, eventually selecting one. She slipped it into the player, hoping that she remembered where she'd last left it. She pressed play, smiling slightly when Gene rolled his eyes, recognising the song and guessing Alex's intention.

"I..." he started.

"Don't you start," Alex told him, her voice as light-hearted as she could make it. "We both know you do dance."

"I think I make an exception for you," Gene sighed, putting his beer bottle on the coffee table and standing. "I think I'd make an exception about anything for you," he added grumpily.

Alex heard Gene's murmured comment, but desisted from making any response - beyond allowing herself a small smile. She'd long suspected she was an exception, but had never expected Gene to say so as explicitly, even if he hadn't intended for her to hear. 

"Here," he said, holding out one hand to Alex. She stepped forward as she had once before, one hand in his, the other at his shoulder. He wrapped his free arm gently round her waist and held her close. Alex rested her cheek against his shoulder, eyes closed, secure in the safety that Gene somehow managed to embody. Gene looked down at Alex, snug in his arms, almost as if she belonged there. He tightened his hold on her fractionally, despite knowing that it could lead to another argument: the newness was nerve-wracking, even if it felt right - had always felt right.

Alex relaxed, knowing she was safe in Gene's arms and understanding that Gene's tightened hold was a reflex, more than an intent. She'd seen Gene's nervousness, felt it in the tension when he took her hand; even now, after a month of not arguing, his uncertainty was clear - he didn't trust himself, and was terrified of pushing her away as he had done so many times before. "I'm not going anywhere," she murmured, "ever."

"Thank you, Bolls," Gene whispered back, resting his cheek against her hair. The song changed, and again. The tape ended with a sharp click and silence fell again. They didn't move for a long while. Eventually Alex smiled and turned her head slightly to properly hide her face against Gene's shoulder.

"What is it?" Gene asked softly.

"We've got to another sticking point," Alex said, voice muffled.

Gene had to smile too. "Yeah, we have. But it's a better sticking point than opposite ends of the couch."

"I suppose so," Alex agreed, and turned her head to she could glance up at Gene's face.

"What?" he asked, meeting her gaze, eyebrows raised in inquiry.

Alex shook her head, overwhelmed, and returned to her previous comfortable position. It was too much: no matter how right it felt; no matter how inevitable it was; no matter how much they each wanted this.

"I know," Gene whispered after a long moment. He pressed his lips against her forehead, as if bestowing a blessing, but made no further movement, and was glad when Alex relaxed against him again.


	2. An old toast

The July day was as perfect a summer's day as Alex could remember. The sky a clear blue and the air warm; she'd spent the morning reading and, after lunch with Chris and Shaz, had found Gene lazing in the sun in his back garden. Complaining more for form's sake than any other reason, he'd joined her for a stroll down to and along the riverside; predictably, they'd ended up back at her's.

Despite the weather, Alex pulled out a bottle of red wine and poured them each a glass. "I've no white in the fridge," she said in reply to Gene's questioning look.

They sat themselves comfortably at their ends of Alex's sofa.

"I think Sergeant Fraser had a point about partnerships," Alex said softly. "Though there are certain similarities to his relationship with his superior officer too."

"He is certainly a curiosity," Gene said. He paused, thinking for a minute. "I think I'm glad he came."

"Me too."

They lapsed into silence, Alex leaned back against the cushions, eyes closed, enjoying the smell of fresh cut grass wafting in through the open windows, accompanied from time to time by the cawing of crows or more melodious bird song.

She sat up with a start, the fact that her glass was already half-empty the only reason she didn't slosh wine everywhere.

"What is it?" Gene asked, seeing her shocked expression.

"Keats," Alex gasped. "He saw that we were partners - _are_ partners - he tried to break us apart."

"Damn near succeeded too," Gene growled.

"You don't understand," Alex said, head bowed over her hands, refusing to look at Gene. "He _told_ me that you and I were partners, but then suggested that things weren't working." She shot Gene a pleading look, and he sat up straight on seeing her heart-broken expression.

"He manipulated us all, Bolly," he said more harshly than he meant to. "I should've wrung his scrawny neck when he'd first shown up."

"I'm not sure that would have helped," Alex said, vaguely amused despite herself.

"No, perhaps not," Gene allowed.

Alex's face had not lost its worried, disconcerted expression, and she gulped her breaths in rather desperately. Gene sighed before saying: "Come 'ere, Bolls." She shuffled over to lean against him, letting herself be comforted. "Right, you all settled?" Gene asked after a few minutes, once Alex's breathing had calmed. She nodded slightly, and Gene gave her a little nudge so she could sit upright again. It wasn't unkind or dismissive, just Gene's being his normal undemonstrative self.

"I think I much prefer Sergeant Fraser, trying to bring us together," he remarked dryly after a long pause.

Alex sniffed. "Or at least help us understand ourselves properly." 

"It amounts to pretty much the same thing."

They sat without speaking for a long while, the noises from the street preventing the silence from becoming oppressive. "Sam said something to me a few days before Fraser came," Gene said eventually. "He told me that the reason you argued with me was because you recognised your right to be heard. The reason I argued back wasn't simply because you fun arguing with you, but because I realised that you were worth arguing with. That you were my equal. I'd never thought of like that before," he admitted reflectively. "You were my D.I., and I was from another time; you were annoying, got in my way; I shouted, simple as that."

"It got you all hot under the collar, that I stood up to you."

"Don't be too sure. Annie had given me some idea of what women were capable of."

"Yet you still called Shaz a lobotomised Essex girl. I wanted to hate you for that, but Shaz seemed completely unbothered by it so I let it slide."

"Not my best day," Gene admitted ruefully. "Sam was right. Fraser too: trust, respect, equality. We had them all."

"Anyway," Alex said, "Moving on."

"On to where?" Gene asked. "We've spent more time discussing Keats than he deserves; we've concluded that a lot of different people been seeing things, that, for once, are probably true. What else is there to say?"

"I don't know Gene," Alex admitted after a moment's thought. "We've sorted the past, but what about the future?"

Gene topped up both their glasses, letting the action cover his silence. He pushed hers towards her and raised his slightly. "Unbreakable, Bolly, unbreakable," he said softly, meeting her eyes.

Alex raised her glass in response, took a sip, and then sniffed and dashed tears from her eyes.

"What is it, woman?" Gene asked impatiently.

"Nothing," Alex lied, taking a deep gulp of a breath, "just... I cannot tell you how much I've missed that." She sniffed again.

Gene shook his head in mock dismissal, stubbornly remaining where he was, letting Alex calm herself down on her own this time. He'd be lying if he wasn't affected too: Sergeant Fraser really had been spot on about the reciprocity of their partnership - he'd sought Alex's company for comfort and support, just as he'd saved her life.


	3. A girls' night in

Alex padded around her flat, quelling her nerves. Somewhere in the seeming whirlwind that had followed Gene's arrival, a long-standing arrangement had got broken. Shaz had brought it up, and Annie and Carol had quickly added their demands that their regular girls' nights in could be skipped once, but twice really was too much. So Alex had, with a certain degree of well-justified trepidation, told Gene that he would have to manage one night where turning up at her door was not an option.

That Gene had, predictably, laughed at loud when she'd told him had caused her less anxiety than the occurrence of an event that had happened - she paused as she inspected her stock of wine and did some quick calculations: fourteen years, that made one hundred and sixty eight months - heck, that was a lot of evenings of wine and snacks and girly chat. She sighed and pulled out two bottles of red and two of white.

A knock on the door disturbed her as she pulled the cork out of the final bottle. "It's open," she called out.

The voices in the hall told her that everyone had, as usual, arrived together. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the analysis and discussion of her - whatever it was - with Gene.

The bustle of settling down, of choosing a movie to watch - or not watch - provided some relief. Somewhat to Alex's surprise, they were well into their second glasses before Gene's name even came up.

"You know," Carol said mildly, not looking at her companions, "I never saw the guv like he is here. He's more outgoing, more the centre of attention."

"He has his showman moments," Alex agreed, although she would have said that he was actually slightly less flamboyant than when she'd been his D.I.. It was all relative, she supposed. While Gene had been far more likely to spend an evening drinking quietly with her, he had his phases of being the life of the party; it seemed that his bouts of exuberance had become rarer - not necessarily surprising as he'd grown older.

"I think I only saw them at work, when he wanted to make a point. He became all loud and domineering, although really it was mostly for show. Oh, he followed up on the statements - in some form; he wasn't one for empty threats, but he rarely needed to." Annie and Alex both nodded in agreement: this was the guv they'd caught seen now and again; they'd also seen the guv who didn't bother with threats.

"You know, Carol," Alex paused, waiting until her friend turned to look at her. "I never did thank you for saving Gene's life - twice. I hope he thanked you, though I can understand that that might have been quite some time after the fact."

"It was nothing, really," Carol said easily. She chuckled. "You're right, he really didn't appreciate the unanticipated meetings with the pavement. Of course, when he did say thank you, it wasn't direct: he simply paid my bill after we'd all been out for a meal together."

"Typical," Alex said dryly. "Well, I'm thanking you now, on both our behalves."

"We wondered, you know. Now and again," Shaz murmured and trailed off.

"Wondered what, Shaz?" Annie prompted.

"Wondered whether Alex and the guv were shagging," Shaz said hurriedly.

"Ah. Yes."

Alex snorted slightly. She'd caught Shaz's slightly worried expression and knew to not react.

"You're referring to how they argued?" Annie asked after a moment.

"Yes. They really got to each other. That much passion. It had to go somewhere."

"Well it didn't, we just argued," Alex said slightly tartly. She got up and excused herself to get another bottle of wine.

Carol and Annie shared a worried glance when Alex didn't return fairly soon. Even allowing for a detour to go to the toilet, Alex was taking far too long. They'd only drunk one of the bottles of red, and the other had already been uncorked when they arrived, so she couldn't be literally waiting for the wine to air.

"I'll go," Carol said.

"I said the wrong thing, didn't I?" Shaz said as Carol stood.

"No, Shaz, you didn't," Annie said, shifting over to wrap an arm round the younger woman. "It's just that Alex's relationship with the guv is, well, `complicated' doesn't even begin to cover it."

Shaz sniffed and nodded, comforted if not entirely convinced.

Carol found Alex sitting at her kitchen table staring blankly at the empty chair opposite her.

"What is it, Alex?" Carol asked softly, placing the box of tissues that usually resided on top of the fridge in front of Alex before taking the chair next to her.

Alex shook her head mutely and Carol waited patiently, knowing Alex would eventually find the words she needed.

"It's just so hard," Alex said eventually, her voice harsh, the phrases choppy. "I see him every day, spend so much time with him, and yet, we're still where we always were. Minus the rows. I mean we've talked over so much, cleared up so many of the things that kept coming between us. You know, when things were going well, when he and I had managed to keep things together and get a result, he would raise a glass, just to me and say 'Unbreakable, Bolly, unbreakable'." Her voice cracked and she took a few deep breaths before continuing much more softly. "Sometimes we believed it, occasionally it was even true. Last night was the first time he said that to me since before he shot me. I never realised how much I missed it." She sniffed hard, tears streaming down her cheeks, unheeded. She knew she was whining, but so desperately unhappy she couldn't help herself.

"So you burst into tears," Carol said flatly.

"Not properly," Alex said, thoroughly miserable.

"But enough," Carol said sadly, "We all know that if there's one thing Gene's terrified of it's a woman crying."

"Ray too," Alex said with a wan smile, finally pulling a tissue from the box.

"Chris is equally clueless too, you know," Shaz added standing with Annie in the doorway, "but, bless him, he at least tries."

"As awkward as a nun in a brothel, as the guv would say, but not running a mile?" Carol asked.

"That's about it," Shaz agreed while the other two nodded.

Annie pulled another chair round to sit close on Alex's other side while Shaz perched on the corner of the table.

"You have to remember, Alex, that Gene isn't a demonstrative man, nor is he one who finds emotionally complex or demanding situations easy to handle," Annie said softly. "He either resorts to anger or clams up. His behaviour doesn't mean he doesn't care, just that he doesn't have the means of expressing himself."

Alex nodded, "I am a psychologist too, you know," she said softly, but she still appreciated Annie's effort. As she'd told Gene the previous evening: applying psychology to oneself was always tricky. She was spared any further temptation or decision making about whether to contradict Annie's last comment, which would require her refer to what Gene had written in his diary, by Carol.

"If anything," Carol remarked, "his toast to you may be as close to him saying that he loves you as he's likely to get, at least comfortably. For all that it's pretty obvious that he absolutely adores you."

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Alex murmured.

"He might not really realise it either," Annie added. "I do think Carol is right, but you two fell in love without even realising you'd done so. You were close colleagues and friends, never anything more; the toast doesn't carry any obvious connotations beyond that, and yet it perfectly expresses the unrealised."

"How do you know?" Alex asked, curious despite herself.

"It's how Gene watches you - while trying to not watch you: the admiration is for far more than what you would earn as a beautiful woman - which you are, by the way," Annie added with a slight laugh. 

"But it's more than simply admiration," Carol added, picking up the train of argument so smoothly that Alex suspected that the two elder women at least had discussed the situation in depth on more than one occasion. "To those of us who know him, that's clear every time he holds the door for you, which he does for no one else. It's there in every glass of wine he pours for you - _and_ every time he leaves you to pour your own wine."

"To change that dynamic, to be anything other than what you still are, that's a big change," Annie said. "You risk losing what you have if things go badly. I cannot imagine that Gene hasn't thought of that."

"And is terrified of it," Carol added with a sense of finality.

"Besides," Shaz said, "helping you on with your coat, or walking you home are not really Gene things to do."

Even Alex managed a weak laugh at that: "No, they're Chris things."


	4. A boys' night out

"Two pints of bitter, two of larger. Cheers, Nelson."

"Coming right up, mon brave," Nelson replied, glancing curiously at Gene who was looking out over the quiet pub, a thoughtful expression on his face. He shook his head: something was up, and he was fairly sure he'd find out more in due course, but Gene Hunt's set face made him suspect that for tonight he would probably have to be satisfied with being in the dark. The past six weeks or so since Gene had joined the rest of the coppers in The Railway Arms had him fairly certain that Alex Drake would be somewhere fairly near the centre of whatever was causing Gene's frequent bouts of abstraction. Bouts of abstraction that he could not remember Gene Hunt of GMP succumbing to.

"Cheers, Nelson," Gene repeated when the four drinks had been placed on a tray at his elbow. He carried the tray and the drinks across to the table Sam and Ray had bagged.

"Where's Christopher got to?" he asked as drinks were taken.

"Dunno," Ray said after a glance around the pub.

"He'll be back," Sam said.

"Well, cheers," Gene said and raised his glass.

Sam's confidence was proved to be well-founded when Chris reappeared a few minutes later.

"Sorry," he said, reaching for his glass, "just had to phone Shaz."

"Well," Gene said, waiting until Chris had sat down and was about to take a second sip of his drink, "since you had the bad manners to not be on time, you can return the tray to Nelson."

"But..." Chris started to object before blushing and obliging.

"You didn't need to do that, you know," Ray said when Chris was nearly at the bar.

"I'm still your guv," Gene said petulantly. "Got to remind you of that now and again."

"It's really not important," Sam said, cutting across any further objections from Ray.

"No?" Gene inquired.

"No," Sam countered, glancing up to check on Chris's progress back across the pub and waiting until he was sure Chris would hear what he said before continuing. "No. What's important is what the heck is going on - or should I say, not going on - between you and Alex?"

Only the subconscious awareness that he held nearly a full pint of Nelson's best Manchester bitter in his hand saved it from an improper end, almost a lifetime of treating good alcohol like delicate china providing reflexes that overcame the shock and temptation to make Sam feel the consequences of his impertinence immediately.

"That," he managed after a long moment, "is none of your business."

"I told you he would say that," Chris said as he took his seat. He held out an expectant hand: Ray pulled a face and put a ten pound note into it.

Gene drank in grumpy silence when the others chatted amicably about various goings on, including Shaz's newest idea for redecorating. He let the conversation wash over him.

"You should have trusted her, you know," Sam said, the comment clearly directed at Gene when it was greeted by complete silence.

"You what, Sam. I don't read minds."

"You should trust yourself with D.I. Drake," Ray explained helpfully, preventing any further demands for explanation by draining his pint and walking off with his and Sam's empty glasses.

"Would one of you two half-wits care to explain why this has come up - again?" Gene asked with clearly forced patience.

Chris glanced nervously at Sam and sat up straight in his chair. Gene did not miss that that action put the younger man as far from him as possible. "You. And Alex - I mean D.I. Drake," he stammered. Sam gave a small nod of encouragement. "It was so obvious. You'd do anything to keep her safe." He fortified himself with the last of his beer before adding quietly: "And she'd follow you anywhere."

"How do you know?" Gene asked, his quiet tone not hiding his displeasure.

"Something Shaz said Alex had said to her once, back in eighty-three," Chris answered, not meeting Gene's eyes.

"And what have you got to say about this, Gladys?"

"Oh, not much," Sam said airily, seemingly oblivious to Gene's glare. "It took Annie and me years to get together - not as long as it's taking you two, mind." He ignored Gene's snort of disagreement.

"Consider Chris and Shaz's breaking up and making up over and over," Ray added, returning to place new pints in front of them all. "Not as dramatic as you and Drake, but there were parallels that not even I can miss. She's a fine copper, and a downright gorgeous bird. How you two never did more than have dinner at Luigi's, beats me."

"You know she loves you, just as you think the world of her," Ray continued after a long pause, his tone brooking no argument from Gene who scowled at him. "It's so bloody obvious it's sickening."

"And when did you become such an expert, Raymondo?"

"The night you came. You look at each other, just like Sam and Annie, or Chris and Shaz, but far more guarded. And you look away the minute you think anyone - including the other - might have noticed it."

"He's right, you know, guv," Chris chipped in loyally. "And you love her too," he added, looking slightly nervous, even as he said it. It had taken Shaz pointing it out for him to notice it, but once he knew to look for it, he'd seen it often enough. When they were talking with each other, they looked as they always had, and there was nothing to indicate that they were anything other than close friends and one-time colleagues. It was when they were conversing with others, whether nearby or across the pub, that they would each look for the other. Shaz, Annie and Sam had come to the conclusion that they probably didn't even realise they were doing it - in a moment of inattention looking for the reassurance that the other was safe and still nearby; the fond expression from accumulated memories and shared experiences completely unconscious.

"You don't argue with someone like you argued with Alex unless you mean something more to each other than just colleagues," Sam added. "OK," he held up his hands at Gene's glare "by all accounts. I wasn't there, it that pedantic enough for your tastes."

"Guess it'll have to do," Gene allowed, pointedly ignoring the preceding comment. "Anyone for darts?" He was desperate to get off the topic of his relationship with Alex. That was his business, and he didn't want or need his well-meaning friends poking their noses in where they were most definitely not wanted.

The move to the dartboard seemed to turn the conversation back to mercifully ordinary topics, and Gene's bad mood had almost lifted.

"I guess I was jealous, you know, when she first arrived," Ray said suddenly, after he and Gene had trounced Sam and Chris in their second game.

"When who arrived?" Gene asked.

"Alex."

"And for a long time after," Gene told him. Ray had always reacted poorly to a new D.I..

"Not seeming to see doesn't mean not seeing," Sam explained to a confused Chris.

"A bird, outranking me. But though I wouldn't admit it, she was a damn fine copper." Ray took a good pull at his beer before continuing: "And, for all your arguments, it was obvious, even to me, that you bloody adored her; would do anything for her. A bit like Chris here would for Shaz."

"Always cocked up though," Gene said, uncharacteristically bluntly. Apparently another pint and a half of beer had made this conversation more palatable than earlier in the evening. Or perhaps he had decided that it would be as well to let them have their say in the hope they would not feel the need to return to the topic in the future.

"Not always," Chris put in.

"More often than you with Shaz."

"I thought we were meant to be playing darts," Gene said crossly, fed up with the conversation that had returned to the same point three times in the same night. Perhaps his toleration for or desire to get this particular conversation out the way was not as high as he had thought.

"Yes guv," Sam said pleasantly, while Chris nodded and Ray grunted in agreement. They took the hint and managed the new game without further recourse to the subject.


	5. A knock on the door

Alex yawned and snuggled into the warm comfort of her duvet. Much as she had enjoyed the evening, it had been tiring and all she wanted to do now was sleep. She closed her eyes and felt herself drifting off.

A dull thumping made her sit bolt upright. She sat still for a long moment, quieting the curses at having been woken just at the critical moment. She realised that the noise was someone at her door. She glanced at her bedside clock - 1145, she'd only been dozing for ten minutes or so. She stood and grabbed her dressing gown, pulling it on as she padded through her flat, flicking on lights and blinking as she went.

"OK, I'm coming," she called out as she neared the door. "Just don't be surprised if I shout at you and push you down the stairs for disturbing me from a good night's sleep," she muttered softly as she fiddled with the safety chain and latch.

"Gene," she sighed, standing with one hand on the edge of the half-open door. "What are you doing here?"

"Dunno, Bolly," Gene mumbled, clearly not quite sober, even as he was also clearly a very, very long way from drunk. "May I come in?" he asked when Alex didn't move.

Alex shrugged and let the door swing fully open before walking into the lounge. Gene closed the door carefully behind him before following her through the flat. He found her sitting perched on one arm of the sofa, bare feet tucked under a loose cushion.

"What is it Gene?" she asked eventually.

"May I sit?" he gestured awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable.

"Of course," Alex said, not bothering to hide her tiredness. She was surprised when instead of taking his place at the opposite end of the sofa he sat at her end, but still leaving a good distance between them. He leant his forearms on his knees and stared absently at his hands.

"Well? What is it?" Alex asked, growing impatient.

"I don't know," Gene faltered. "I don't know where to start."

"I would say start with what's brought you here to disturb me just as I was getting to sleep," Alex said somewhat tartly, "but," she continued more softly, "I think that would probably be difficult, so I'll ask you something far more mundane: How was your evening?"

Gene shot her a grateful look, but spoke to his hands. "It was OK. Ray and I won at darts. Not that that's a surprise. Sam and Chris really are hopeless."

"And..." Alex prompted when the silence stretched.

"Three times. Three bloody times. They returned to the same damn topic," Gene spat out the words, and Alex was glad that Gene's moroseness meant that they were spoken softly rather than shouted as they would have been if he had been in a more argumentative mood. He took a deep breath and spoke more coherently: "They wouldn't give it a rest, the impertinent twonks. Oh, they'd change the conversation, but then, just when I was starting to relax and think that they had accepted that it was none of their business, one or other of them would bring it back up."

"Like a bad penny."

"Exactly like a bad penny. Just three of them."

Alex hummed softly in sympathy, even though she still had absolutely no idea what Sam, Chris and Ray had been needling Gene about.

"Three bad pennies. Tell me, Bolly, what did I do to deserve them?"

Alex smiled: Only Gene Hunt would complain of the loyalist three friends a man could have.

"Since I don't actually know what they've been saying that has got you so wound up, I really cannot help you," she said blandly.

"Course you could, Bolly. You know me better than anyone. You don't need me to tell you."

"Funnily enough, Gene, I'm not a mind-reader."

"Could have fooled me."

"Anyway, what was it that they were so persistent about?"

Gene shot Alex a disbelieving look then turned away. "You," he said bluntly.

"Oh," Alex said softly. That certainly would explain Gene's bad mood. "You know," she continued after a long pause. "I wouldn't swear to it, but if it comes out that this was, how shall I put it, orchestrated in collaboration with Shaz, Annie and Carol, don't be surprised. Please don't shout at them, though, they don't deserve it."

Gene looked up at her, curious.

"Let's say that I got something of a grilling too?" Alex said, hoping that Gene would leave it at that.

It was, unsurprisingly, a vain hope: "How so?" Gene asked, tone insistent.

"Oh, you know, observations being reported to the observed."

"Which ones?"

"The meaning of you sometimes pouring my wine for me and sometimes not," Alex said, choosing the example she found most comfortable.

"What meaning would that be?"

"You refraining from coddling me."

Gene snorted. "As if you'd let me."

"Exactly." They lapsed into silence, unsaid explanations hanging in the air. Gene shifted uncomfortably, eventually standing and walking across the room to gaze distractedly out of the window.

"Shit, Sergeant Fraser noticed it too," he remarked after a pause, turning to face Alex.

"So what do we do? What do you want to do, Gene?" Alex asked gently, keeping her place on the arm of the sofa even while she half turned to look at Gene. He walked slowly back across the room to stand next to her.

"What I want to do," he said softly, "is snog you until you can barely breathe, then shag you until you can't remember your own name." Gene looked away and ran a hand through his hair, self-conscious and tense. "But that's not really an appropriate course of action with you."

"What did I once say?" Alex tilted her head to one side, pretending to think. "'I'm an insatiable nymphomaniac', yes, I think that was it."

"Only you weren't, were you?" Gene asked. He'd tacitly assumed Alex had been playing along with him, letting him make her seem less important and relevant than she actually was, but now wanted confirmation.

"No, Gene, I wasn't." Alex sighed, one more sort of secret out in the open.

"But I'm sure you had a point reminding me of that now. So out with it."

"Doing the right thing is overrated," Alex said, stepping down from the sofa and turning until she stood toe to toe with Gene. "Besides, you were forever saying we were unbreakable - and you know that's as true as anything you've ever said."

"Are you certain?" The doubt in Gene's voice and expression almost broke Alex's heart, even as his honestly made her fall just a little further in love with him - not that she'd thought that possible.

"As certain as I've ever been." Alex raised one hand to cup Gene's cheek, the other coming up to rest on the lapel of his jacket. He slowly bent his head until their lips met. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but Alex mewed, pressing against him, her arms sliding round his neck, and all thought of restraint was, as Gene had intimated, soon forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> Right, that's it. I hope you enjoyed it and that I've tied up all the loose ends. (Let me know if I missed anything?)


End file.
